


One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Holy Water?

by Cornerofmadness



Series: Bright Star [3]
Category: Angel: the Series, Lucifer (TV), Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Malcolm Bright and the team have come to L.A. for a forensics conference and to collaborate a little with Chloe Decker and Lucifer. While waiting for Lucifer in Lux, Malcolm runs across a man he’s sure is delusional. Why else would Charles Gunn think he’s hunting vampires?
Series: Bright Star [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706311
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33
Collections: A Ficathon Goes Into A Bar





	One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Holy Water?

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver, Joss Whedon & DC Comics owns them
> 
> **Notes:** written for the 2020 into a bar challenge where two characters from different fandoms meet in a bar. Since I already have a Lucifer/Prodigal Son crossover and when I was given Charles Gunn from Angel the series, as the character to meet Malcolm I decided why not a three way crossover? Technically Lucifer isn’t in the story but since Lucifer and Angel are both in L.A. I thought this worked.

XXX

The music pumping in Lux was hardly Malcolm’s sort of thing but he could appreciate the beat if nothing else. He sat at the bar sipping a very fine scotch that Lucifer had told the bartender was for him alone. The eighteen year old Glenmorangie had spent time in both bourbon and sherry casks adding such depth. The thick creamy taste enticed him with hints of berry and caramel. He’d have to buy Gil a bottle of it and never tell him what it cost, granted there were far more expensive scotches out there.

Malcolm held out hope Lucifer would return. He and the team had come to L.A. to present at a forensics conference all their work on serial killers, both his father’s copycat and John Watkins; Malcolm refused all offers to exploit his father’s crimes but he could talk about his own work. As luck would have it now that he was free, Lucifer was off with Detective Decker on their own case but he thought he’d be back tonight. Malcolm hoped so because he –as much as he hated the word – was downright horny. If nothing else, he’d see Lucifer tomorrow and could tell him he’d met his brother. He’d be curious to see what Lucifer’s reaction would be.

He’d spent the last hour talking to the tall, shave-headed Amenadiel. His dark skin and broad well-muscled body held nothing in common with Lucifer. Neither man suggested they were adopted or stepbrothers and Malcolm had decided not to pry. He’d learned a lesson in that with Dani. He wished she were with him tonight too – not that he thought she’d go along with Lucifer’s threesome idea but the man was persuasive – but rather that he sort of sucked at small talk and Amenadiel wanted plenty of that. Malcolm liked him well enough but he got the idea that Amenadiel somehow also believed that Lucifer was the actual devil. Maybe he had merely gone along with it once Malcolm had broached the subject. Maybe it was a case of Folie à deux. He didn’t have enough information yet. What he found even more curious was that Amenadiel also knew ‘Doctor Linda,’ Lucifer’s therapist. He wanted to meet her. He knew they couldn’t discuss Lucifer but Malcolm missed psychological discussions that didn’t have _him_ as the central theme. He missed talking to colleagues. 

After Amenadiel went off with a lovely lady with devilish eyes, Malcolm asked for another refill on his scotch and debating calling up Dani and seeing if she wanted to go do something. It was better than sitting around, waiting on Lucifer who could be tied up all night. He knew she didn’t like clubs any more, too much of a reminder of her undercover past and all that had gone wrong during that time. As he considered it, another African American man sat next to him, tall like Amenadiel but much more wiry in build. He smiled at Malcolm, after scrutinizing him closely.

“Nice vibe in here,” the man said.

“It’s a nice club,” Malcolm replied, wondering if he had a sign on his back that said ‘talk to me.’ Usually he could be invisible in club but tonight everyone wanted to converse.

“That’s an east coast accent,” he said, eyeing Malcolm. “On vacation?”

“Work thing, I’m presenting at a conference,” he replied, in case this guy was a scammer looking for victims.

“Ah, interesting. I’m Gunn by the way.”

“Bright.”

“Are you enjoying your time on the west coast?”

Malcolm regarded the man, thinking they were relatively the same age. Gunn might be a bit older. He was obviously in the mood to talk and what else did he have to do other than finish his scotch and leave? “I’ve mostly been in the conference room. I haven’t gotten out to do anything except at night. So it’s hard to say I’m enjoying it but at least the conference has been successful.”

“Well that’s something.” Gunn glanced up at the bartender. “Bourbon, neat, thanks.”

“Good choice. My mentor loves the stuff,” Malcolm said, not willing to give names to strangers in a club. That might be underselling the relationship he had with Gil but it was also accurate.

“Mentor eh?”

Malcolm nodded, knocking back his scotch. He’d get another when the bartender returned with Gunn’s bourbon. “He taught me a lot of what I know about tracking people.” He scowled. That hadn’t sounded right. Maybe he shouldn’t have another scotch. It was obviously mixing badly with his meds.

Gunn’s eyes narrowed but before Malcolm could explain better the bartender brought Gunn’s bourbon. Malcolm did pass on another scotch. The last thing he needed was a bad drug interaction. 

“Sounds ominous,” Gunn replied as he took a small flask from his pocket and went to pour it into his bourbon but it slipped. Liquid spilled all over Malcolm’s hand. 

Malcolm yelped, surprised, and he swore Gunn reached into his pocket as if for a weapon. Malcolm fluttered his hand, sending the liquid flying. He grabbed a cocktail napkin and dried his hand.

“So sorry! I’m really picky about my water. I always pour it in myself,” Gunn apologized, capping the flask and returned it to his pocket. “Miracle spring water.”

Malcolm wrinkled his nose. “You believe in that?”

Gunn shot him a sheepish look. “Not me, my Granny. I hate to disappoint her. I hope I didn’t get it all over your suit and ruin it.”

“I’m fine and you might want to tell your granny that stuff is a scam,” Malcolm replied, thinking granny sounded a little like a lie but he wasn’t sure why.

Gunn shrugged and sipped his bourbon. “I’ve tried. She doesn’t listen.”

“No harm done, and I didn’t mean to sound ominous. I’m a profiler with the NYPD and my mentor is a homicide detective.”

“Oh, I see, makes sense. So, you’re here talking about finding killers?” Gunn pulled out his phone and texted.

“Serial killers in particular. The main part of my talk was John Watkins, the junkyard killer. Maybe you’ve heard of him,” Malcolm replied, leaning close to spy on the text because everything about Gunn’s body language was strange. 

_Angel: Not the vampire we’re looking for, just a really white guy._

“Hey!” Gunn snatched his phone away, spotting him spying on the text. 

“You thought I was a vampire? Who’s Angel?” What was with L.A.? Was everyone here delusional? Malcolm stared at Gunn in complete awe. How could so many people believe such weird things?

“It’s a game we’re playing,” Gunn stammered, obviously lying. “I’m sure it sounds weird.”

Malcolm chuckled. “You think? I’m beginning to wonder about this city. The owner of this club thinks he’s Satan. I spent an hour before you got here talking to a guy who thinks he’s an angel and now you’re texting an angel about me being a vampire. Did Amenadiel put you up to this?”

“Who?”

“Amenadiel, African-American, about your age and height but more heavily muscled? No? So literally two people think they’re talking to angels tonight and was that holy water you threw on me?” Malcolm glanced at his hand suspiciously.

“I’m not talking to an angel. Angel is his name.” Gunn sighed. “Don’t know an Amenadiel and can we forget about all this?”

Malcolm shrugged one shoulder. “I guess but I have to say the forensic psychologist in me is fascinated by the idea that you’re hunting a vampire, because that was totally holy water you spilled on me. If I checked your pockets, would I find a stake or a cross?”

Gunn narrowed his eyes. “We’re not about to find out.”

Malcolm raised his hands, conceding the point. “Fair enough. I’m not a vampire, though I have tracked down a serial killer once that thought he was.”

Gunn tossed back his bourbon and pushed the glass to the edge of the bar. “This John Watkins fellow?”

“No, he liked to crush people in car compactors right up until he cut the throat of a cop I was with and took me prisoner.” Malcolm beckoned over the bartender. If he was going to be talking Watkins and vampire slayers he might need that scotch after all and to hell with the interactions. 

Gunn blinked. “Wow, you were kidnapped by a serial killer. How did you get away?”

“Broke my own hand to get out of the cuffs and beat him with a crowbar as he was trying to cut up my mother and sister with an axe.” Malcolm took a deep breath in. To be truthful, he barely remembered any of that thanks to the trauma and blood loss. “After I nearly bled out from him stabbing me in the gut.”

“Life’s rough.”

“You have no idea. Want another? I’m buying,” Malcolm said as the bartender came back. Gunn nodded and Malcolm ordered the round. “Watkins was the second scariest killer I had a part in taking down. The vampire one didn’t even make third place.”

Gunn studied him for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’m afraid to know who the scariest one was.”

“My father,” he said. Yep, he was a little drunk. He didn’t usually tell strangers he was the Surgeon’s son but this guy thought he was chasing vampires. Maybe he needed a dose of reality. “He’s a serial killer. I had him arrested when I was ten.”

Gunn sat back, stunned. “And Connor thinks he has daddy issues. Sorry, dude.”

“Connor?”

“Angel’s kid. There have been times he’s wanted his father locked away for life, but Angel’s not a bad guy,” Gunn said as the bartender gave them their whiskey. Somehow Malcolm didn’t think that was the whole story but he wasn’t sure why. There was something off in the infliction in his voice. “They’re both here.”

“Hunting vampires?”

Gunn shot another withering look. “To enjoy the ambiance.”

“To be fair, I can see why you’d mistake me for one. I’m here mentioning stalking people and Bright could be an ironic sobriquet a vampire might pick.” Malcolm grinned and held a hand out in front of him. “And I _am_ pretty pale.”

Gunn snorted. “That’s a word for it. Probably don’t get a lot of sun talking to killers in prison.”

“Or psychiatric hospitals. And sunlight, by the way, is how we figured out our vampire serial killer wasn’t a real vampire.” He smirked. “We let the sunshine in.”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” Gunn shot him a withering glance.

Malcolm shook his head. “If my team were here, they’d tell you I don’t know when to let things go.”

“Now might be a good time,” Gunn growled.

“Can I meet Connor and Angel? Do they think there are vampires? I mean based on the text Angel does. Do you know how rare a folie à trois is?” Malcolm peppered the questions out, ignoring Gunn’s growing annoyance. “I’d love to talk to all three of you about these vampires.”

“You remind me of a friend of mine.” Gunn clenched his glass too hard. “He’s gone now but you babble like Wes would when he found an academic subject that excited him.”

Malcolm bobbed his head and shot back his scotch. It burned beautifully down his throat. “I’ve been told that’s a bad habit of mine.”

“You might want to listen.”

“So, can I meet them?”

“Probably not a good idea.” Gunn drained his bourbon and slipped off the bar stool. “Thanks for the drink, Bright.”

“You’re welcome.”

Malcolm watched him leave, going deeper into the club. A strange disappointment settled around him. He wanted to meet Connor and Angel. He wanted to see if he could be really surrounded by so many delusional people in one location. He could write a paper on it. His phone buzzed and he read the text. Lucifer wasn’t coming home any time soon. Malcolm sighed. He polished off the remains of his scotch and slid off the stool. He might as well go back to the hotel and watch TV or see if Dani was around. She’d be amused by the strange people he’d met tonight. But first, a bathroom break might be in order. The alcohol had done its work on his system and he didn’t want an Uber ride having to pee.

As he pushed his way through the crowd, he realized someone had fallen in step with him. Malcolm had a decent sense of self-preservation, in spite of how often he managed to get hurt on the job. The guy was about six foot, young, barely looking old enough to be in Lux. He wore his blond hair short but stylish and his build was leanly muscled. He was attractive. He could be following Malcolm or he could just need to pee to. For some reason, however, he set off alarms in Malcolm’s brain. Once inside the rest room, Malcolm peeked at the mirror and didn’t see the guy. Curious, he looked over his shoulder and there he was. Was something wrong with his face? Damn how drunk was he?

Suddenly Gunn was there, all but falling into the toilet stall and the cute guy was gone. His head whirling, Malcolm staggered over to the stalls. He should never have had that last scotch…maybe the last three of them. He might actually need Gil or Dani to keep an eye on him and his breathing. He was an idiot sometimes, the world’s smartest idiot as Ains was wont to call him.

“Gunn, are you all right?” he asked, seeing Gunn braced against the toilet stall.

“Tripped,” he said, straightening up.

Malcolm glanced down and saw a pile of dust on the floor. “What the hell is that?”

“Don’t know, slipped in it.” Gunn shrugged, shaking his foot as if to get the dust off his shoe. “Maybe someone was smoking a little something they shouldn’t have been. Lux has a bit of a reputation as anything goes.”

“That is Lucifer’s style.” Malcolm nodded. 

“Lucifer? You were serious about him thinking he’s Satan.” Gunn look amused.

“It’s insane on the face of it, and I shouldn’t get involved but he’s just so damn…enticing.” Malcolm took a deep breath out, trying not to get too excited. That’s all he needed once he was back in the hotel with nothing but his hands. “Though if he keeps trying to get Dani and I into a threesome…um, forget I said that. I’m a little drunk. Where’d the blond guy go who followed me in here?”

“I think he ran back out,” Gunn said, walking out of the rest room without using it.

Malcolm trailed after him, puzzled. The blond wasn’t in the nearby vicinity that he could see. “I swore he didn’t show up in the mirror. I wonder where he was standing to manage that.”

“You did say you were drunk.”

“Not blind drunk!” Malcolm protested as another man ran up to Gunn, weaving through the crowd expertly.

“Gunn, did you…”

Gunn tossed up a hand and inclined his head to Malcolm.

Malcolm suspected the new guy was going to say, ‘find a vampire.’ The newcomer could have been picked up by accident if someone ever took out a BOLO on Malcolm: less than average height, blue eyes, straight brown hair and slender. He was clean shaven unlike Malcolm who had been hoping to use his scruff on Lucifer tonight, and vice versa.

“Bright, this is Connor,” Gunn said. 

Bright waved. He didn’t want to hear he was pale. Gunn’s friend was almost ghostly. 

“We need to go find Angel,” Gunn added.

“He was over by the piano,” Connor said. 

“Nice meeting you, Bright.” Gunn clapped a hand on Connor’s arm who waved at Malcolm and led the way back through the crowd.

Malcolm shrugged, went back in, and poked at the dust, before admitting defeat. He had no clue what it was. Giving up, he arranged for an Uber, peed and went outside to wait. Malcolm watched Lux fade into the rear view as he caught his ride to the hotel. Gil and the others weren’t going to believe this. Vampires and angels, what a completely crazy night.


End file.
